Gift of Giving
by brilliant star
Summary: Zeke helps Mòrag pick out a gift for Brighid. Things get a little out of hand, probably.


originally posted at ao3

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* * *

"And what have we here?"

Mòrag looks up, so caught up in her thoughts that she actually startles and takes a step back. Zeke laughs at that. "You're into this kinda stuff, Mòrag? Never would've guessed, not in a million years!"

It's a cramped little booth selling a wide array of cosmetics in neat glass bottles and trays of powders, too many colors to really keep track of. Lipsticks. Hand and face creams. Perfumes. Hair products. Much, much more. Still somewhat unnerved at being caught, Mòrag folds her arms rather defensively and shakes her head.

"I'm not."

"C'mon, you can admit it! I'm actually quite the pundit in secret-keeping. Just ask Pandy!"

She can already feel her patience wearing thin, which is quite a feat in itself since Mòrag would rather consider herself a very even-tempered person. But that's just the kind of person Zeke is, apparently. The kind that's able to wear down even her ironclad temper. She scowls.

"I'm _not._ If you really must nose your way into my business, I'm looking for a gift. For Brighid."

"Ah, s'that right? What's the occasion?"

"Nothing, really. I thought I'd simply take the opportunity to buy something for her while we're in Fonsa Myma."

"Spur of the moment, hm? Nah, that doesn't sound like the whole story." Zeke vaguely waves his hand. "Well, whatever. I'm not the kind of man to interrogate a lady about her _special relationships_."

Then, before Mòrag can say anything to refute that, Zeke bursts out with his next brilliant line: "That troubled look in your eyes, however, tells me that you need help in picking something out for her! Allow the Zekenator to lend his assistance!"

"…No, thanks."

Zeke squats and slams his hands down on his knees, startling an Urayan passing by. "Oi, don't be like that! How long have you been staring at all this, huh?!"

For half an hour, at least. Not that Mòrag would actually admit that. It isn't a matter of not knowing what Brighid would like— she knows all her favorite cosmetic products and favorite sweets like the back of her hand, but every time she picks up something the thought of _is this actually good enough_ never fails to run through her mind.

Something that's worthy of Brighid. Something like that. Mòrag isn't even quite certain how to articulate what she'd been thinking for the past half hour.

"Titan-Oil Hand Cream is her favorite," she muses out loud, apparently resigned to Zeke's persistence. "But perhaps she'd like to try something new, as well. Besides, the hand cream would be too entirely predictable, and I do believe she still has several bottles of the stuff left."

Zeke eagerly nods and rubs his chin. "Right, right, I see what you're getting at. You don't wanna get her the usual crap, you wanna buy her a gift that'll _knock her socks right off._ Uh, metaphorical socks. She doesn't wear socks, does she?"

"She does not."

"Knew it!" He snaps his fingers. "Anyway, how much money do you got? This stuff doesn't look like it runs very cheap."

"Money is of no issue," Mòrag says, picking up a bottle at random and turning it over in her hands. "I have more than enough to purchase the entire shop, if I were inclined to."

"Whoa! It's not from the Ardainian Treasury, is it…"

"Zeke, if you ever suggest such a thing again, I will set you on fire."

"K-Kidding! I'm _kidding!_ Yeesh, I'm not fireproof, y'know!"

"Yes, I am _very_ aware of that." Ah, damn, now she's actually smiling. She sets the bottle down and clears her throat, trying to settle back down into a neutral expression. "Do you not have anything better to do? Where's Pandoria?"

"Pandy? Ah, she went off her own way to go look at some books. And you can't chase me away so easily! I said I'd help you, so I will." Zeke looks over all the bottles and vials and powders and this-and-that-and-whatnots, all of it completely alien to him. Pandoria typically doesn't bother with cosmetics. Neither of them really do, since they couldn't exactly afford to buy such luxuries while out on the road. Still, he urges the cogs in his head to work faster, humming out loud in thought and glaring so hard at the array of products that the shopkeeper begins to nervously fidget.

Mòrag resists the temptation to wave a hand in front of his face. "Zeke?"

"GOT IT!" He exclaims, and for the second time that day, Special Inquisitor Mòrag is startled. "You said it yourself! Just buy the whole damn shop!"

"What."

"Yeah! What better way to say whatever the hell you're trying to say than presenting the deeds to a cosmetics shop?" Zeke grins and nods, apparently satisfied with his answer.

"That seems extremely excessive."

"What _are_ you trying to say with this gift, anyway?"

Mòrag shifts her weight from one foot to the other, suddenly feeling decidedly self-conscious, a sensation that only annoys her. "I only wish to show my appreciation for her."

"I figured that much out by myself, but in what capacity exactly? Appreciation for the last time she shielded you in a fight? Appreciation for her unrelenting power? Appreciation for her constant companionship? Appreciation for _what_ exactly? Don't skimp on this stuff, Mòrag!"

She finally snaps. "Everything! Appreciation for her _everything._ That's my final answer, satisfied?"

Undeterred, Zeke's grin grows wider. "Ergo, could the ownership to an entire stock of cosmetics truly be called 'excessive' when scaled against your feelings for her?"

For the first time, Mòrag is at a loss for words. The shopkeeper, who had been quietly watching this exchange this entire time, softly coughs. "I-It's not out of the question. I mean, if you really do have the money."

Mòrag slowly looks to the woman, a strangely determined fire blazing away in her eyes, and nods. "I'll take it."

Zeke cheers. Loudly.

* * *

They meet up with their Blades back at the inn. Brighid and Pandoria are sitting together in the front lobby, quietly chatting about something or other, and both look equally pleased when Zeke and Mòrag return.

"What. A. Day!" Zeke collapses on the seat beside Pandoria and sets down some bags he'd been carrying down on the floor. "I'm telling you, Pandy, the Flamebringer? Real piece of work. Can't even be honest about her own feelings, y'know? Not even when the answers are as clear as daylight!"

"I'm right here, Zeke," Mòrag says as she sits with Brighid. "My offer to set you on fire still stands."

"How can you call that an _offer?!"_

"Hah! Sounds like you two had a fun day," Pandoria says. "Hope My Prince wasn't too much of a hassle to deal with, Mòrag. Should I be apologizing for anything he's done?"

"Actually, no. As strange as it sounds, Zeke has been… helpful."

"Yep! That's right! Me!" Zeke jabs a thumb at his own chest.

Mòrag chooses to ignore him for the time being, and turns to her Blade. "I… bought something for you. I hope it will be to your liking, Brighid."

Brighid's eyebrows go up in mild surprise, even though she actually doesn't seem all that surprised at all. "Oh? You shouldn't have, Lady Mòrag."

"No, no, I insist." She presents the rolled up sheet of paper to Brighid, vaguely annoyed at her own heart for beating so quickly. "The deeds to Aquaneze Cosmetics. Managerial duties will remain with the original owner while we travel, of course, but you'll have access to its stock. They have that Titan-Oil Hand Cream I know you're fond of, as well. I took the liberty of bringing some with me, along with several other products I thought you'd like to sample."

" _She made me carry the bags_ ," Zeke loudly whispers to Pandoria.

"Lady Mòrag…" Brighid puts a hand to her chest, smiling. "I really don't know what to say."

"There is no need for words. As long as I know you're pleased, I am satisfied."

"Hah…" Brighid chuckles, and pulls out her own sheet of paper. "It's actually a funny coincidence. You see, I actually also thought to buy you a gift, and, well—"

"—I convinced her to buy the deeds to Maluria Antiques for you!" Pandoria proudly puffs her chest out and thumps Zeke on the shoulder. "Hey, Princey! Fancy that! It's like we were actually in sync the whole day, despite being apart from each other!"

"Huh?! No way! Hahaha, that's grand! Absolutely grand!"

"We totally got Mòrag and Brighid to spend all their money on each other! Without even planning it first!"

"You and me, Pandy— we're unstoppable! Ahahaha! Come, we must celebrate!"

The two abruptly leap up to their feet at the same time and run off, leaving Mòrag and Brighid behind, stunned. Mòrag cradles her face in one hand, and Brighid steeples her fingers together.

"Those two…"

" _Odd._ "

"That's one word for them."

They look at each other and simultaneously laugh. Mòrag, in the spur of the moment, puts an arm around Brighid. "They have quite the bond, but so do we, wouldn't you say?"

"Quite right, Lady Mòrag," Brighid returns the gesture by moving closer until Mòrag can feel the heat of her flames through the fabric of her uniform. "Well now, it looks like we're both the proud owners of our very own Urayan shops. How strange, for two of Mor Ardain's most powerful figures."

"The Senate would be outraged to hear of us providing such boons to the Urayan economy," Mòrag chuckles. She brushes her lips against Brighid's cheek, suddenly feeling far happier than she'd been in quite a while when Brighid nuzzles her back.

"Maybe we should follow through and buy out the rest of Fonsa Myma for each other," Brighid murmurs, her hands moving up the front of Mòrag's uniform. "Although, I don't think it'd be nearly enough."

Mòrag's unable to contain a grin now, and she kisses Brighid again. "The entirety of Uraya, then… and how about Tantal? I'll take all those fine historical treasures, just for you."

"You _spoil_ me, Lady Mòrag. In that case, I'll be claiming the Argentum Trade Guild in your name."

She shivers as Brighid's hands begin to grow hotter against her body, and Mòrag quickly kisses her once more. "Shall we continue this conversation in our room, Brighid?"

"Yes, let's."

Meanwhile, Zeke and Pandoria run through the streets, laughing and whooping to each other, much to the confusion of the Urayans.


End file.
